22

NAN told Shubo and Niyan of his decision to sell the restaurant, and to his relief, they wanted to buy it provided the price was reasonable. Nan said he would let them have it for $25,000, the same as the original list price, if he found a full-time job elsewhere. He knew he could have sold it for a few thousand more, but the two were friends and the Wus wanted to leave the Gold Wok in their hands.

That settled, Nan began reading ads in newspapers and hunting for a job. There were many openings advertised, but few offered medical insurance. In two days he went to nine places-three restaurants, four stores, and two offices, and filled out forms and questionnaires and was told to wait for them to call him. The working hours at all the places were in the daytime, and only one of the jobs offered decent health care benefits, but he wouldn't be entitled to them until he had worked three months at the store. He was frustrated, convinced that none of those places would hire him. What he needed was a job that provided full medical insurance right away.

At last he went to Sunflower Inn on Buford Highway, a motel owned by James Lee, a Korean man. It had advertised in World Journal for a front desk clerk. Nan was offered the job on the spot, probably because Mr. Lee was impressed by his English. The boss, licking his arched lip, said, "We only have night hours at the moment."

"Zat's all right," Nan replied. "As long as you offer good health insurance I'll take zer job. I have a child and can't run zer risk of not having my family cahvered."

"We do provide that, but you'll have to pay about three hundred dollars a month. Actually, some of our employees don't join the policy even though we offer them that. It's too expensive for them."

"I understand, but I would love to buy zee insurance from you."

So Nan started to work at the front desk the following night. His shift was from eleven p.m. to seven a.m. He'd be alone in the motel until six o'clock when the cook, Genia, a middle-aged Korean woman, came in to prepare the continental breakfast. Nan liked the job very much. After midnight it was quiet in the lobby and he could read and think, though his mind often turned to Pingping, who was still housebound. These days she, despite her pain and weakness, would cook for the family when Nan wasn't home. She herself could hardly eat anything other than a few spoonfuls of the grain porridge she made for herself. Her calves were so cold that she had to wear leg warmers all the time. Nan urged her to rest well and eat more, saying she might die if she didn't have normal meals. He couldn't imagine himself functioning without her. She had become an integral part of his life, having suffered silently and sacrificed unconditionally for the family all these years. The more he thought about her life, the more remorseful he felt. He hoped it wouldn't be too late for him to make atonement, to cherish and love her devotedly. He even prayed to God for her recovery.

23

HAVING followed the physical therapist's instructions, Pingping exercised lightly every day and began to feel better. The small of her back was less numb and painful than before, all the symptoms somewhat alleviated. She had also regained her appetite and color. At length Nan and Taotao were relieved to see that she was on the mend.

"I want to work at the restaurant when I'm well again," Pingping said to Nan one afternoon. She regretted having sold the business in a rush, but she too had thought she might not recover at all. Two days earlier, despite Nan 's objection, she had phoned Niyan, who had assured her that, after her recovery, Pingping was welcome to work at the Gold Wok.

"That's fine," Nan told her. "I'll talk with Shubo. They may need your help, but you should rest at least a few weeks more. I'm done with the restaurant myself. I like my job at the motel. Besides, I must have the health insurance for us."

A week later Nan went to talk with Shubo about Pingping's wish. To his astonishment, Shubo said Nan should have sold him the restaurant for less money if he had intended to leave Pingping at the Gold Wok, so now Nan mustn't interfere with his work. Infuriated, Nan blasted, "This is really low. I let you have this place at a big discount because I thought you were my friend. But when I need your help, you just give me a bunch of hogwash. What kind of friend are you?"

" Business is business," Shubo snorted, but he avoided looking Nan in the eye.

" I never thought you were such a businessman. " Nan slapped the top of the karaoke machine Shubo had just installed.

"We're living in America now and should be coolheaded about this sort of thing." Shubo's voice was harried, while his fingers were thrumming a table. Behind him a carpenter was busy building a bar.

Niyan said to Nan, "We don't have an opening right now. When we need Pingping's help, we'll let her know." Unconsciously she combed her upper lip with her teeth. Beyond her, on the beverage machine was taped a bottomless-cup sign.

"Yes, you can let Pingping fill in for you when you have to go to a party," Nan sneered.

"Wait a second," Shubo butted in. "Was I not a handy stopgap for you for several years?"

" So? That was how you learned this trade. That was a procedure for your apprenticeship!"

" Nan, you have a penchant for going ballistic. Truculence is your Achilles' heel, you know." Shubo sucked his cheeks, his wispy mustache bristling.

"Only because I'm too gullible about people. With a good buddy like you, who needs an enemy?"

"We really don't have an opening now. You're being unreasonable."

"At least I'm not out of character-haven't forgotten how I started. All right, thanks a million!" Too sick to argue with Shubo anymore, Nan wheeled around and stalked out of the Gold Wok.

"Such a hothead," Shubo said to his wife, and cracked the joints of his fingers.

"I did promise Pingping to let her work here."

"So what? We've changed our minds. We own this place now and must run it in our own way. Once Pingping is here, Nan will poke his nose into our business for sure." He passed into English: "Too many dragons cause a drought."

"The right American idiom is 'Too many cooks spoil the soup.' "

"You know what I mean."

"But aren't Pingping and Nan our friends?"

"No friendship is unconditional."

Niyan breathed a sigh and said no more, believing he was right. In this place one had to take care of oneself. Friendship was largely based on mutual usefulness-only personal interests could bind people together.

24

EVER SINCE Nan began working at the motel, he had kept a poetry journal, which was a traditional practice of ancient Chinese poets. On the first page of his blue spiral notebook he had copied these lines from Frost's "Oven Bird":

The bird would cease and be as other birds But that he knows in singing not to sing. The question that he frames in all but words Is what to make of a diminished thing.

At night he often read those lines before writing down his ideas and reflections on poetry and writing. He regretted not having started the journal earlier, which helped him organize his thoughts and also provided material for his poems. When he sat at the front desk alone, he felt at peace with himself. At long last he could sit like this, thinking and writing devotedly. How mysterious and miraculous life was! Even Pingping's back injury had done him a service, forcing him to change his life. He couldn't help but wonder whether it was the working of some supernatural power that had lifted him out of his old rut. How fortunate he was to have Pingping as his wife and fellow sufferer.